Page 128 of A Wolf After My Own Heart
“But I want to know—well, everything.” His hands were on her shoulders and he was almost vibrating with intensity. “I want to know everything about you, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about me. But I also want to—to just put it out there: I want to be with you. I don’t care in what capacity. I’ll take you any way I can get you. Possibly forever.”
“I don’t know if I’m yourRupa. Or yourKama.”
(The look of utter astonishment on his face was a thing of beauty.)
“Wh—how—I don’t—how—Mama Mac?”
“Who else? You know how it is: you’re hanging out on a stranger’s porch mulling over the damage done to your home by the neighborhood racist and you decide to tell someone an origin fable while relentlessly matchmaking. Happens all the time.”
“It’s just a story.”
“I know. And it can stay that way. Let’s just see where this goes. Expecting each other to be their perfect physical and spiritual mate on such short acquaintance is ridiculous. Now take off your pants.”
And then they were kissing again, and her hands went to his belt again, and the space heater might become superfluous because she wasverywarm, and how had she gone so long without realizing a man’s scorching touch was nothing to fear?
“Oh please, please let me,” he murmured into her neck, and then kissed her throat. “Please, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
And that was just dumb because ofcoursehe wouldn’t hurt her, not just because he was her Oz but because she’d put a bullet into his collarbone if he tried but if he didn’t care about her scars then neither did she.
So she let him tug off her sweater and she got him out of his shoes, which TBH she should have started with instead of lunging for his belt like a sex-starved suburbanite—which she was—and then his pants, and relieved him ofhisshirt, and then he said something weird
“I’m getting rid of all my turtlenecks. I’m never wearing one again.”
and then he pulled off her leggings and when she turned to toss their clothes toward a handy corner he laughed and laughed at her Harry Potter panties.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good?13”
“Shut up, you’re the weirdo swearing off turtlenecks.”
And then they were down to their underwear and scrambling beneath the icy covers because a space heater was all well and good but it was still early spring in Minnesota, and nearly dark, too.
They kissed and touched and stroked and nibbled and if someone had told her a month ago that she’d forever after think of sheds as erotic way stations, she’d have laughed ’til she choked.
After a lovely long time, they came to a mutual unspoken decision to back off a bit…well, no. She took a breath and said, “Let’s back off a bit,” and he groaned but complied.
“So fifteen and a half more dates,” he said, and she giggled.
“I could cut that down a bit. Make it an even dozen.”
“Or three,” he suggested hopefully. He had one arm around her and was tracing some of her scars with bandaged fingers. “There’s another theory aboutKama-Rupa, if you want to hear it.”
“It can’t be any weirder than all that’s happened this week. That’s not a challenge, by the way.”
“Lone wolves need a mate and cubs, so they’re drawn to another loner who needs to make their own family. And they’re stronger together, so they make strong cubs.”
“I don’t want my own family. I don’t like being around people. I don’t even like kids that much. What?” she asked when he snorted.
“Mama Mac was right. You really don’t want anyone finding out what a softy you can be.”
“Mama Mac spends entirely too much time fretting about our love lives.”
“But all kidding aside—”
“Oh, this should be interesting.”
“—I’m so glad to be here with you.”
“Me, too.”
